Claire Knows Best

by Tracey Bateman

  “No,” I say firmly. “We don’t need to check him out. He’s the janitor’s brother-in-law and Greg recommended him, and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Claire…” Rick starts to argue, but Darcy breaks in.

  “Let’s eat. I know the kids are starving. Aren’t you, kids?”

  It is so like Darcy to remind us that our kids are listening to every word we say and that the last thing they need right now is to hear their parents arguing.

  “Tell me about school, guys,” I say.

  “Track meet tomorrow, Mom,” Ari says. “Don’t forget. Right after school at our field.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Me too,” Rick says.

  Ari shrugs. “Okay.”

  I cast a look between them, but both have their heads down staring at their plates. I switch my glance to Darcy, who gives me one of those “we’ll talk about it later” stares.

  The two little boys have little to say about school. Jakey just wants the next month to hurry up and get over with so that summer vacation can start.

  “I have a note for you to sign,” Shawn says, and I feel dread rising. Last fall Shawn got into trouble for writing not-so-nice notes to a busty school secretary. He’s been in counseling.

  Greg winks at me. “He’s not in trouble.”

  “What is it, Shawn?” I ask.

  “There’s a children’s theater starting this summer. And I want to join.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea, Shawny,” I say, and his face brightens. I toss a glance to Greg. “The school is sponsoring a children’s theater?”

  Greg shakes his head. “John Wells got the okay from the school board to provide flyers and permission slips. Kind of like little league does.”

  “So I can do it?” Shawn breaks in.

  His excitement is catching. “Of course. Bring me the form after dinner and I’ll sign it for you.”

  “You know, I could do that, bud,” Rick pipes in.

  “I know. But Mom already said she would.”

  Tommy shifts in his seat and leans forward on his elbows. “I got something you can sign, Dad.”

  I have to restrain myself from telling him to get his long hair out of his food.

  Rick gives him a suspicious, raised-brow look. “What’s that?”

  “Pastor Shane wants to sponsor me. But I need permission from both parents since you’re divorced.”

  Nice the way he played on our feelings of guilt over the split-up. I’ve got to hand it to him. Brilliant tactic.

  Shane Vale is our young skateboarding youth pastor. He’s spent the last year hanging out at The Board, a skateboarding hangout. Recently he convinced the church to purchase the building and the equipment when the owners put it up for sale. He runs it. I admire the heart he has for these kids, even if I’m not crazy about the fact that my kid likes to hang out with them.

  “I don’t know, Toms, I want to look into it first.”

  “Claire, I think we can trust the youth pastor, don’t you?” Rick says, and I swear I’d like to knock him out of his chair. “Bring it to me after dinner, Tommy. I’ll sign.”

  I’m furious at his utter disregard for my opinion. “Wait. I said we need to see.” I glare and mentally begin making my list of topics for my next conversation with Emma.

  “And as his father—you do remember I’m their father, right?—I say it’ll be good for him.”

  “Uh, hey, you two. It’s no big deal.” Tommy breaks in before I can reply. “It’s a stupid idea anyway. I’m really not good enough to be in the competition circuit.”

  I know darned well that’s not true. Tommy burned up a competition last fall. Won a great new professional-quality skateboard in the process. Of course we couldn’t let him keep it because we caught him smoking behind the building after he competed, but the point is, he’s good. Very good. And if anyone has the talent to enter skateboarding competitions it’s this kid.

  “Hey, you know what, Tommy? Your dad’s right. You should get this chance. I’ll sign it too—since divorced parents both have to sign.” I give him my I-know-you’re-full-of-bull look about that and he grins.

  “Well, only one of you actually has to sign it.”

  “That’s what I thought. Let your dad do it. That way if you break any bones, there’s no record that I actually agreed to this.”

  It’s not until I’m back at Helen’s and Greg has already said his good-byes and kissed me good night that I remember I never actually spoke with Darcy about Ari’s attitude toward her dad. I know my daughter has times when she’s upset with him over his infidelity. She forgives, but it comes back. She’s just a kid, after all. And he broke up our home. I think more than anyone, she feels the loss of that family unit. I resolve to have a good talk with her tomorrow after the track meet. Maybe we need a trip to Dairy Queen for a banana split.

  But first things first. I fill my amazing bathtub with water and sink into a steaming tub of jasmine-scented bubbles. An hour later I emerge feeling all warm and relaxed. I towel off and slip into my SpongeBob pajamas. It’s comforting to crawl into bed with my Bible and Beth Moore devotional and remember that no matter how out of control and overwhelmed I’m feeling, God is always looking out for me. He’s just there, you know? Being God and being good and loving me with His incredible, unfathomable love.

  I’m just dozing off when my cell phone rings on the nightstand next to me. Who would call this late? My first thought as I sit up is that one of the kids is hurt or sick. With my heart pounding against my chest, I answer.

  Linda’s voice on the other line relieves me until she starts talking. “You aren’t going to believe what I’m looking at.”

  “What?”

  “Your daughter and mine going into Barney’s with a couple of guys I’ve never seen.”

  Barney’s is a local pizza hangout where they serve wheat crust pizza and play live music every night. High-school kids frequent the place until about ten, when the college students take over. The music gets a little louder, more beers flow around the place. I take a glance at my clock. After midnight.

  “You sure you saw right?”

  “I know I did.” Linda’s voice radiates with the same anger that’s starting to rise inside of me. “I heard Trish sneaking out, so I decided rather than stop her, I’d follow to see where she was going. She picked Ari up at the end of that ridiculously long driveway of Rick and Darcy’s. Then they met these guys at Barney’s. You coming? I’ll wait if you are.”

  “You better believe it. Don’t let the front door out of your sight. I don’t want them escaping before I get there.” I already have the covers pushed back and I’m rummaging for a pair of jeans. “It’ll just take me a sec to get dressed.”

  “What are you wearing right now?”

  I confide to having on the SpongeBob jammie bottoms and an undershirt. And my leopard-spotted slippers I wore downstairs that fateful tornado day.

  “Claire, don’t change. Wear that. I’ve got my pajamas on, too. It’ll serve them right.”

  Oh, yeah. It’s so obvious why we’re best friends.

  Helen is coming toward the stairs with a cup of tea obviously headed up to her room to read when I come downstairs.

  “Oh, Claire, I thought you’d already gone to bed. Your light was off when I decided to come down for some tea, or I’d have offered you some.”

  “You’re up awfully late.” I pull my keys from my purse.

  “New book. I can’t put it down.” She smiles fondly. “What’s your excuse?”

  “I have a slight kid problem.” I give her the digest version and her eyes widen. “Oh, dear.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ten minutes later, I swing in behind Linda’s little red Miata parked in the nearly empty lot across the street. She is standing beside her car by the time I unbuckle and get over to her. I give her a quick once-over and grin at the ladybug pajamas and matching slippers. Perfect. “Are you ready for this?” she asks.

  “You
have no idea how ready I am.”

  So off we go. We jaywalk across the street and through the glass storefront I see Ari, Trish, and their two dates sitting in a little booth about halfway through the dining room. “What a cozy little foursome,” I say.

  “Yeah, let’s go make their lives miserable.”

  We walk through the door and head toward the table. Heads are definitely turning at the sight of two moms, no makeup, both wearing pajamas and fuzzy slippers—Linda even wore her robe for effect. Ari glances up and her eyes go wide with horror like she’s a child on Elm Street and I’m Freddy Krueger. She nudges the young man next to her to let her out, but I hurry over to her. “Hi, honey, mind if we join you?” I give her date a sweet smile. “Scoot over, cutie.”

  Blond-headed, blue-eyed, he looks like the all-American boy. “Uh, excuse me, ma’am. But I think there’s a table just over there.” Gotta give the kid credit. At least he’s polite.

  “Oh, don’t mind us,” Linda says, pushing her way into the other seat next to Trish’s date. I’m sure we make quite the picture with the two young girls pressed against the inside of the booth, Linda and me sort of hanging over the edge of the seats, and the two clueless guys squeezed between us and our daughters.

  “Doesn’t that pizza look good?” I ask Linda.

  She grins and nods and reaches for a slice. “Mmm, tastes good, too.”

  “Mom,” Trish says, leaning around her date. “What are you two doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Linda asks. “Oh, you mean coming here after midnight on a school night? Funny. We were just wondering the same thing about you two.”

  Ari is used to our mother/daughter back and forth, so she knows better than to start anything. But I can’t help myself. “Ari, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “No.”

  The young man gives her a puzzled look and reaches out his hand to me. “Clyde Frederickson.”

  I shake his hand. “Clyde. You seem like a really nice guy. And I notice you’re not drinking beer like your friend there.” I point to the mug in front of Trish’s date. Trish and her guy both blush.

  “Never touch the stuff,” Clyde says. “Dad’s a pastor. He’d kill me.”

  “See?” I say, looking around him to my daughter, whose face shows no contrition. “I knew he was a good guy.”

  “Yeah, Mom. He’s a regular Billy Graham. Now can we just go?”

  “Go? But I haven’t finished my pizza yet,” Linda jumps on the bandwagon. She glances at Trish. “And you know how cranky I get when I don’t get to finish my pizza.”

  “All right. Enough.” Ari slaps her hand flat on the table. “I get it, okay? I’m grounded for the rest of my life.” She turns to Clyde. “I lied. I’m sixteen—”

  “And a half, honey.” Sometimes I just can’t help it.

  “Yeah, right,” she mutters. “And a half.”

  Clyde gives her a little frown. “Oh, wow. You lied to me.”

  “Very astute,” I say, just because I’m in an acerbic-remark mood. I suppose it’s not his fault Ari lied to him. “How old are you, Clyde?”

  “Eighteen.”

  In theory, he’s not too old for my Ari, but she’s just a junior in high school. And with senior year still ahead of her, I’m not prepared for her to date college boys.

  “Let’s just go, Mom. All right?” Ari says through clenched teeth.

  I glance at Linda to see if she thinks Trish has had enough. She winks and nods.

  “All right, then.” I slide out of the booth and lean one hand on the table while I plant the other on my hip. “Slide out of there, will you, Clyde? It’s past my daughter’s bedtime.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He steps back and doesn’t look at Ari as she scoots out. Linda follows suit.

  “Sorry for lying to you, Clyde,” Ari says, and to be honest, I’m a little proud of the way she handles the whole thing. “You’re a nice guy and didn’t deserve this.” She waves toward me.

  “Are you kidding me?” Indignation shoots through me. “I’m the ‘this’ he doesn’t deserve? How about he doesn’t deserve to be lied to by a little girl playing grown-up?” I’m so mad I can hardly stand to look at her. “Get your behind out to the van.”

  Darcy’s mouth is wide with shock when I get to their porch fifteen minutes later. I have, of course, called ahead to let Rick know that I am bringing our wayward daughter back to his house.

  “I just can’t believe you snuck out.” There’s a tremor in Darcy’s voice like she’s taking it personally. As though she’s the one who’s been betrayed.

  “Sorry, Darce.” Ari slips past her stepmother and it occurs to me that this little apology is more than I’ve gotten.

  Rick is standing beside Darcy wearing blue pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. His face is red and scowling. “What are we going to do about her?”

  I give a shrug. “I don’t know, Rick. She’s never done anything like this before.”

  “That you know of.”

  I hate it when he acts smug. Especially when our daughter turned into a liar and a sneak on his watch.

  “I do know it, buster.”

  “All right, you two. It’s one in the morning.” Little Miss Voice-of-reason sounds weary. “Let’s hash all of this out in the morning. Claire, do you want to crash here? We have plenty of room.”

  Not even if the only thing between me and sure frostbite was the warmth of Rick’s hearth. “No thanks. Helen is waiting up for me.” I toss a glance back to Rick. “Don’t punish her without me.”

  I start to turn toward the door when Jakey’s sleepy little voice reaches my ears. “Mommy?” I glance up the steps and my heart melts at the sight of my youngest child rubbing his eyes. His race-car pj’s are crumpled from sleep.

  “What are you doing up, sweetie?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Darcy heads towards the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water, Jakey. Do you want to come down here and kiss your mom good night?”

  My heart clenches as his little legs negotiate the enormous steps. I smile and open my arms. He clasps me so tightly around the waist, I feel the blood rushing to my head. “You okay, bud?”

  “Can I come home with you?”

  Rick steps forward. “Remember, Jake, your house has to be fixed? Your mom is staying over at Mrs. Lewis’s house.”

  As though his dad hadn’t spoken, Jake bends his neck back and looks up at me. “Can’t I stay with you?”

  “Not tonight, sweetheart.” What’s a mom to say at a time like this? He’s always loved coming to his dad’s house, but I guess it’s not the same when you factor in the uncertainty of not knowing how long you’ll be staying. It’s obviously messing with his sense of security. “How about I tuck you back in bed?”

  His little head bobs. I lift my gaze to Rick’s just to make sure. I resent his nod. I mean, since when does a mom have to ask permission to tuck in her baby? Darcy returns with Jake’s water and he takes just a sip then gives it back.

  She holds out her hand. “Want me to tuck you in, Jakey?”

  A frown creases his perfect young skin. “No. Mommy’s going to.”

  Surprise lifts her equally flawless skin. Hurt flashes across her eyes. “All right.”

  My heart goes out to her a little, but come on. He is mine. “He just misses me.” I pat her arm as Jake grabs mine and pulls me toward the steps.

  From the corner of my eye I notice Rick move next to Darcy and slip an arm about her shoulders. They’re waiting for me at the bottom of the steps fifteen minutes later after I’ve read Jakey a story, sung him a song, and kissed him ten times.

  “Hey, you two. Sorry to keep you up. Well, actually, blame Ari. She’s the one who caused all this.”

  Rick walks me to the door. “What are we going to do about her?” He gives me a preemptive look. “And let’s don’t start fighting about which of us is more lenient, please?”

  “I wasn’t going to.” I wish I had the guts to stick out my tongue.
“I’ve been thinking about her punishment. We should definitely take away all driving privileges for at least a month. And ground her from going anywhere with any of her friends who drive.”

  He nods in uncommon cooperation. “I agree. And maybe she should have to volunteer at the homeless shelter?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face to Lord knows where. “I don’t want her to do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s too young to be exposed to that sort of life.”

  He folds his arms across his chest. When Rick folds his arms across his chest it can only mean one thing: he’s making a stand. I don’t feel all that intimidating in SpongeBob jammies and leopard-spotted slippers. Nevertheless I pull myself up to my full height and dig in my fuzzy heels.

  “If she keeps sneaking out at night that might be the sort of life she’s headed for.” He towers over me and I fight the urge to place my palms on his middle-aged, letting-himself-go, squishy pecs (and who says I’m gloating just ’cause I’ve been working out?) and shove him backward to get him out of my personal space. I’m not about to let him make this decision about punishment if he’s going to be so ignorant about it. My daughter is far from a homeless runaway just because she snuck out to meet a nice guy at a pizza place. “Don’t you think that’s overreacting a bit?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I don’t think I’m overreacting. That girl has been getting away with entirely too much. Better to nip it in the bud right off the bat, if you ask me.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask you, buster.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, you did.”

  “No. I said don’t punish her without me. But since you put your spin on my meaning, let me be blunt. I’ll deal with my daughter in my own way.”